nd Dotty of her new resolution; but she kept a journal, and that
evening there was a precious item to make in it.

I think, by the way, that Prudy's habit of keeping a journal was an
excellent thing. She learned by the means to express her thoughts with
some degree of clearness, and it was also an improvement to her
handwriting.

"_July 2d._ My sister Dotty thinks, certain, positive, she _will_ be
a good girl; and this is the day she begins. But I shall not tell
anybody, for I promised, 'No, never.'

"My mother told her about a girl that almost killed a dear little
boy because they asked her to give him baked apples and milk. I
heard my father say to my mother that he thought the story pierced
Dotty like _a two-leg-ged_ sword. So I don't think she will ever get
angry again. Finis."

Prudy always added the word "Finis" at the close of her remarks each
day, considering it a very good ending.

CHAPTER III.

FIRE.

For a few days after this, Dotty Dimple had little time to think of her
new resolution. Nothing occurred to call forth her anger, but a great
deal to fill her with astonishment and awe.

The three little girls, for the first time in their lives, were learning
a lesson in the uncertainty of human events. They had never dreamed that
anything about their delightful home could ever change. If they thought
of it at all, they supposed their dear father and mother, and their
serene grandmamma Read, would always live, and be exactly as they were
now; that their home would continue beautiful and bright, and there
would be "good times" in it as long as the world stands.

It is true they heard at church that it is not safe for us to set our
affections too strongly upon things below, because they may fail us at
any moment, and there is nothing sure but heaven. Still, like most
children, they listened to such words carelessly, as to something vague
and far away. It was only when they were left, in one short day, without
a roof over their heads, that Susy sobbed out,--

"O, Prudy, this world is nothing but one big bubble!"

And Prudy replied, sadly,--

"Seems more like shavings!"

You all know how an innocent-looking fire-cracker set Portland ablaze,
but you can have little idea of the terror which that woeful Fourth of
July night brought to our three little girls.

When I think of it now, I fancy I see them speeding up and down that
departed staircase, trying to help t